


Fix You

by bearonthecouch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Dating violence, Ed-level swearing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Winry Has Major Abandonment Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: “This isn't about the automail, is it?”(This story starts with a wrench to the head and ends with kissing. That might say it all.)





	Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> Figure this takes place during Episode 17 of the 2003 anime, but thematically it doesn't have to. Do with it what you want.

“Ow! Dammit, Winry, that hurt!”

Ed reaches up with his left hand to rub at his head, where he can already feel a knot swelling up. 

“It’s supposed to hurt, you jackass,” Winry snarls. “What were you  _ thinking _ ?!” She holds the wrench in her right hand, white-knuckled, and there’s fire in her eyes and Ed has to admit she is a little bit scary when she gets like this. 

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

“You don’t look  _ fine _ !” Winry screams. She waves her hand to the nearby table where the salvaged pieces of his automail arm lay scattered in haphazard piles. 

Ed flinches. “Look, I’m sorry about the automail, okay? It wasn’t my  _ fault _ .”

Winry raises the wrench again, but Ed picks up his left arm to block the hit, and though the metal tool connects with his flesh and sends a flash of pain spiking through his arm, he’d rather it be his arm than his head. 

Winry locks eyes with him, and although she still holds the fucking wrench, she shakes her head in what might be something like an apology. Ed glares. 

“Are you going to fix it or not?” he growls. He fucking  _ hates  _ this, hates being helpless and broken and begging. He hates having to rely on her. He can put the arm back together with alchemy, probably, but until she reattaches it, and does… whatever she does, making sure the pieces can move right, making sure he can feel them, then the arm is nothing more than a piece of metal and he’s useless.

“Why should I? You’ll just break it again.”

“For  _ fuck’s  _ sake, Winry!”

“You could’ve died, you bastard!” 

Ed frowns. He pushes his left hand down onto the bed on which he rests, giving him the leverage to sit up a little straighter. He leans forward, trying to catch Winry’s eye again, but she won’t look at him. She’s pointedly turned away from him, picking up the shattered pieces of his arm and looking at each for a few seconds before setting it down again. He can hear her muttering under her breath, something about percentages and alloys, steel and chrome. 

“Win?”

“You know I’ll fix the arm, Ed. You don’t have to ask.”

“I know, but… Win? I didn’t… you do know I didn’t mean it? Right? I wasn’t trying to get hurt.”

She puts down the strip of metal she’s holding and turns to him. She leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. The wrench is nowhere to be seen, thankfully, and her anger has ebbed a little, or at least changed shape. Ed watches her carefully. 

“You never mean it, Ed,” she mutters, harsh and hurtful. Her guilt trips are worse than when she actually hits him, and Ed can’t look at her. He doesn’t fear pain, not the physical kind, not anymore. But this is something different. She’s making it sound like he’s the one that hurt her, or something. For fuck’s sake. She pushes herself off the wall and starts pacing. Ed holds his breath. She’s got that look in her eyes like she wants to throw something. 

“I’m… sorry?” he asks, testing the words. He is, actually. It isn’t fair to her that he keeps breaking his automail. She shouldn’t have to keep fixing him. 

“You really are an idiot,” she accuses. Ed sighs. If she’s just going to insult him, why the fuck does he keep coming here? He can  _ find  _ another mechanic, he’s in the fucking military, for fuck’s sake. He gets V.A. benefits or some shit. He’s about to point that out when Winry stops pacing and  _ looks  _ at him with such force that he struggles to breathe. “You might not care enough to take care of yourself, but there are people who  _ care  _ about you. People who would  _ care  _ if you fucking  _ died _ , Edward.” 

“I didn’t die,” he points out needlessly. That much is obvious, right? But she still seems to be expecting something from him. He takes a cautious breath. “I’m not… going to die?”

“How can you promise that when you keep doing stupid shit?! It’s like you think you’re invincible.”

“This isn’t about the automail, is it?”

Winry shakes her head, a look of utter disbelief on her face. She starts laughing, but it’s a release of tension, her only way of indicating that she can’t believe he’s this stupid. There is nothing about this that is amusing. 

“Win, you’re kind of scaring me…”

“ _ Good _ .” She sits down on the bed next to him, forcing him to scoot over to make room for her. He’s sitting there in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, so there’s no hiding the fact that his skin is a mess of bruises, cuts, and old and new scars. Winry presses on one bruise just under his knee, just hard enough to hurt. She looks up at him, fiercely determined and terrifying. “You don’t get to sacrifice yourself to save the world,” she insists. “I don’t care if you  _ are  _ in the fucking military and they tell you you’re disposable,  _ you aren’t _ .”

“I know that, Win.”

“Do you? Because you don’t act like you do.”

“Look, you weren’t  _ there… _ ” he stops short, because something flashes across Winry’s face at that. He frowns. “Win?”

“I’m never  _ there _ !” she cries, and again, she’s looking around for something to throw, but there isn’t anything, so she settles for punching Ed’s left arm, hard. He lets her. He doesn’t even visibly react. “I wasn’t there when you and Al tried to… fucking whatever the hell, bring your mother back to life, and you almost  _ died _ , and I wasn’t there when you got into a fight with a serial killer who wanted to fucking  _ murder you _ just for being an alchemist, and I wasn’t there when you decided to throw yourself against the _ Flame Alchemist _ just for  _ fun _ , he could’ve killed you Ed…”

“Mustang wouldn’t’ve killed me…”   
  
“That’s not the  _ point _ .” 

“I’ll be more careful.” Winry sits there, on the edge of crying, mad and scared and hurt and Ed sighs. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her close against his chest. “I’m gonna be more careful. Trust me, Win.” He kisses the top of her head, and she tenses up, then relaxes. “You believe me, right?”

“No,” she mutters. Ed snorts. 

“Do you at least believe that I’m not getting hurt to hurt you?” Winry doesn’t answer for what feels like forever. She runs her fingers over the scarred skin around his automail port, then leans down to kiss that same skin. Ed tries to pull away, out of habit, and Winry notices and stops. “You do believe me, right?”

“Yes?”

“You know I can’t just stay… safe, in Resembool. I can’t. And I know you won’t stop worrying, but…”

“Ed,” Winry demands. He raises an eyebrow. “Shut up.” And she kisses him.

“‘K,” he breathes, as her lips press against his. Her gentle hands on his body let him know that he’s forgiven. 

  
  



End file.
